mascaraeyes
by rainydaydreams
Summary: Real girls with real mothers have dolls that are never played with for fear they might be broken. :: Drew. Collection of drabbles, freeverses and oneshots.
1. stolen goods

**So. I was trying to put together a oneshot for Drew, and was looking for songs to work with. AND EVERY SONG WAS, LIKE PERFECT.**

**So I started thinking - a dangerous pastime, I know - that Drew is very resilient. You can tear her apart or stitch her together, and she will remain Drew. And you can find her anywhere. So this is the premise: take a song or a phrase or a quote. Anything. You will find a little bit of Drew in it. Anywhere. Write a drabble or a oneshot or a multichap or a poem. And it will still be Drew.**

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><p><em>i. stolen goods<em>

She's so sick and tired of it.

Of her, smiling down at her like she owns the world. Waving it in her face like it's better than the latest Chanel handbag. And all she wants to do is rip it out of her un-manicured fingers and say, _oops. That's not actually for sale. It's mine. _But it's okay. She'll realize that stolen goods are no good, especially when she's stolen from her. Actually, she'll realize it's the worst thing she's ever done.

Or tried to do, because there's no way that she's going to get away with it.


	2. betrayal or blind date

**"…in the dark of that night's betrayal or blind date…" - The Virgin Suicides, by Jeffrey Eugenides**

**Half a drabble, because I am lazypants. You should not be lazypants. You should review. *meaningful look***

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><p><em>ii. blind date or betrayal<em>

She's poised over him, Mr. Business Casual, one knee on his chest, one hand gripping his tie. And she feels regret? Guilt? Maybe disappointment that it's not the sort of love people would expect her mother's kids to have. But this is lust, the most primal form of love. And lust is love and love is lust, but Drew's always been good at only one of them.


	3. beyond the looking glass

**Freeverse. Not much to say, actually. Review, mmk? *cocks gun to your head whilst smiling in a seductive manner***

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><p><em>iii. beyond the looking glass<em>

_**.**  
><em>

she looks in the mirror

and recoils

**.**

it would be so easy,

she thinks

to smash it

to break what it shows her

because even if it is whole

the shards are killing her

**.**

because all she can see

is this bitch who she doesn't know

who she used to know

but doesn't know anymore

she's like her evil twin sister but with much better hair

and gods, she hates her

**.**

but she's always been good at hating

so she keeps on doing it

because she can't do anything else

trapped behind this glass

palms hitting it

mouth open in a twisted lipstick scream

but no one hears

(no one ever does)

**.**

and she's always been pretty good at denial

it's why she's been trapped here so long

and it's why she never realizes

when her evil twin sister looks her in the eyes

separated by a plane of glass

that she's her own evil twin sister.


	4. call it what you want

**YAY! I updated again! This is based off the song, "Mountain Top" by Bedouin Soundclash. Pro-Drew. Review. *bucktooth grin***

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><p><em>iv. call it what you want<em>

Drew is a lot of things, none of them good, but the one thing you can never accuse her of being is _kind_.

Okay, so maybe she gave Lacey her favorite skirt the day she got her period all over her jeans, and told everyone she didn't like it anymore when they asked.

And maybe she broke up with that guy because Regina had been crushing on him since well, forever, and told everyone that she was after someone else now, and besides, he's not her type.

And maybe, just maybe, she put her most worn boots in the pile of clothes they collected for Piper.

But it's not like she liked them or anything. They were just worn out - and really comfortable - and she's Drew, she doesn't wear old boots. It's not like she got those boots as a present from her mom - her only present - and it's not like she wore them to the point of obsession and it's not like she named them Prada and Chanel and stitched her name on the sole, or anything.

It's not like _that_. It's not like she's nice or anything, and put them in the pile as like, a tradition, or something. Or that she was remembering her own first day being claimed, and was feeling empathetic, or whatever.

Call it what you want, but it wasn't _kindness_. That's just not what she does.


	5. frigid cold bitch

**Wrote this a very, very long time ago. Found again while reorganizing my files. Review. I shall bribe you with skittles. *waves bag tantalizingly***

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><p><em>v. <em>_frigid cold bitch_

**_._**

the words were her little secret

nobody ever knew, nobody but her

(well, someone did, once)

(but he's gone now)

**.**

they started coming slowly,

smeared in lipstick on her mirror,

on a crumpled note in her bag,

stuck with gum on her sword

and soon she saw them everywhere

in strings of words and commas and accusations that were

shouted from the rooftops

and whispered through the grapevine

**.**

_**frig·id**_

that was the first,

scrawled on a used tissue on her bunk

and she did her best not to care,

because whoever had left it was obviously

a sad

p.a.t.h.e.t.i.c

person

right?

**.**

_**cold**_

tucked into her hairbrush,

written in pink eyeliner

she swore she'd never tell,

because when you're cold

you're frozen

and the secrets freeze with you

**.**

_**bitch**_

she melted in the end,

right into his strong, safe arms

and then she'd told him,

and he'd tried to end it

but you only thaw for a while

until winter comes again

**.**

and freezes everything.


	6. damsel in distress

**It was raining today. In _December_. In _Canada_. Life is all sorts of weird right now. I will never forgive CORPORATIONS, whom I've decided to blame for the lack of snow. Anyway, leave a review. Be wonderful. *blows a kiss in a whimsical sort of way***

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><p><em>vi. damsel in distress<em>

_..._

once upon a onceuponatime

you had friends

you had a daddy dearest

you had a brother

…

but then the conflict started

and the friends ditched and died

and the daddy dearest got a new baby girl

and the brother turned out to be a traitor

…

and instead of gritting your teeth

and bearing it like a lipgloss girl

instead of saying, _oh well_

and moving on with life in true

damsel in distress fashion,

you made the change

from princess to prat

from damsel to witch

from good to bad

…

and you know what?

you love it

you love that there's more to you than

oh-he's-so-hot-I'm-so-in-love-oh-baby-please-look-this-way

because you've never been one for pining

you've never understood the concept of patience

and anyways,

you're hot enough that you can get away with it

…

so what if you're the evil witch?

the villain that nobody but the weird and delusional root for?

at least you have _substance_

at least you have a tortured background that gives people sympathy for you

(not that you want it, but still)

at least you have an excuse to cackle every onceinawhile

because a girl should cackle every onceinawhile

…

and anyways,

at least you aren't still waiting to be rescued.


	7. empty thoughts

**Because _Empty Thoughts _finally broke. (Oh, she is lovely. You absolutely must meet her.) Please leave a review. I promise that Drew will not bite you. She's too classy for that, y'know? *winning smile***

**OHYES, EDIT: Thank you, thank you, thank you, you lovely anonymous reviewer whose name I searched but did not find. I am glowing. You just can't see. xD**

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><p><em>vii. empty thoughts<em>

Empty rooms and empty thoughts. Empty smiles and empty laughs. They try to hide their hollowness with makeup and mascara and lipgloss and sex, but it'll only take one hit to hear their emptiness.

Lipgloss girls always leave a residue. A stain. A forgetmenot. She won't be a lipgloss girl. When she leaves, she will be gone, and no one will have anything to remember her by. Because she's not empty like them. She has more to her than her waterproof lipstick. She needs something more nourishing than hollow smiles and blank stares. So she won't stay long in this vacant neverland of the lost mascara girls. She's just taking a break.

(Too bad she missed the warning sign on the way in. She was too busy trying to fill her empty head.)


	8. it's not me, it's you

**In my defense, I'm like half done the written bit. And already done the presentation bit. Has anyone ever noticed how words flow so much faster when you have an ugly project to do? (Ohyes, leave a review. *winning smile*)**

**Anon who might be a flame, I'm not too sure: How come what? So what? I'm so confused!**

**Also an air kiss to XxTheAngstyOnesxX because she is lovely. **

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><p><em>viii. it's not me, it's you<em>

Sometimes it's you and sometimes it's her but it's never me. You know that and I know that, we know that the problem is not me, it's you or it's her or it's him. Every time, it's you or her or him, but it's never me. Do you ever get sick of that, darling? Which one are you again, darling? Peter or Lisa or Duncan or Joe? I don't even remember anymore. Do you ever get tired of me, darling? That's okay. I get tired of myself sometimes. But remember, I'm not the problem here. You are.


	9. princess posture

**Because once upon a time, The Best Friend asked her brothers which HP movie they were watching. The younger one replied, "The Happy Princess". And also because I've decided to hold off on that Mario/HP crossover crackfic. For now.**

**Leave a review, kay? (Also another air kiss to XxTheAngstyOnesxX.) *mechanical beauty queen wave***

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><p><em>ix. princess posture<em>

_..._

oh, you're beautiful, honey

you're a princess, gorgeous

life is your crown

and you were born to wear it

you've got your gowns of friends

sequins sparkle from your deep brown eyes

and you're beautiful, honey

because honey, you taste better than honey

and you were born to wear that crown

so keep your head held high

you don't want to blend in with the paupers

you're a princess, remember?

so act that way

and find your prince charming

and when you find him

he's your prince charming

and your happy ever after

but prince charming turns out to be

a onceuponatimefarfaraway

and keeps getting further and further away

until you find yourself stranded in a story

that is not your own, but that of a princess

aren't you happy, beautiful?

that's what you wanted, isn't it?

to be a princess?

keep your head held high

because you're gorgeous, darling

and let's face it

he was no prince

he wasn't fit to wear the crown

of your love

that tiara remains yours

and yours alone

but do you want to be forever alone?

you don't

because princesses aren't cat ladies

they are gown ladies and tea ladies and crown ladies

and you've got a happy ever after, just waiting for you

so, gorgeous, you keep your head held high

even when they claw at you

pummel you

push you to the ground

you're no fallen angel, gorgeous

you're a princess,

and no scars will steal your crown

and even if you don't get the glory

you're not listed among _their_ royalty

and let's face it, you aren't known for your loyalty

you're still a princess, honey

and your happy ever after is out there

waiting for you

so keep your head held high, gorgeous

make sure that crown still fits

you don't look too happy

but isn't this what you wanted?


	10. let's pretend

**Oh hello there. You should leave a review. *winkwink* (Ohyes, XxTheAngstyOnesxX. You should get an account. I feel creepy continuously declaring my love for you in public.)**

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><p><em>x. let's pretend<em>

_..._

_Picture this._

Her. Gorgeous raven locks. Porcelain skin. Superior expression. Sparkling brown eyes. Sitting on a throne (a bunk bed will suffice), shapely legs bent in front of her. Queen of the world. (Or at least of herself.)

Her. Ratty brown braids. Imperfect skin. Expression that says _will you be my friend? Why are you such a bitch? I'm perfect, can't you see?_ Shifting kaleidoscope eyes. Kneeling on the ground in front of her. (Or actually just standing in an infuriating sort of way.) Princess who will save the world from their evil dictator. (Or just get the guy.)

...

_Picture this._

Her. Staring in the mirror. Seeing imperfection. Happy.

Her. Staring in the mirror. Seeing perfection. Unhappy.

...

_Picture this. _

Her. Alone. Okay with being alone, because the silence doesn't scare her.

Her. Surrounded by friends and family. Running away from the silence. It chokes her.

...

_Picture this._

Her. Unhappy. Pretending to be happy.

Her. Happy. Pretending to be unhappy.

...

_(Sometimes, she wonders who the bigger faker is.)_


	11. fortress walls

**You should leave a review. (Fun fact: this was originally written for Hazel before SON came out. It was intended to be a longish oneshot, but didn't get past drabble length. And as it turns out, Hazel's not much of a fortress.) *nods eagerly* (Dear XxALLOFYOURNAMESxX: Air kisses and bear hugs and 30 Seconds To Mars.)**

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><p><em>xi. fortress walls<em>

They say no man is an island.

That's fine by her, because she prefers to think of herself as a heavily armed, impenetrable fortress. Of course, some call her a frigid cold bitch, but that's just more ammunition to shoot down from her fortress walls. She's spent years building those walls. They are heavily fortified, complete with iron battlements and gargoyles. There are times when those walls get in the way, when she feels isolated and above it all, but it's times like now that she built those walls to protect herself from in the first place.


	12. shallow graves

**Quoi? Two updates in one day? This is inspired by _No Place Like Home_ by _Marianas Trench_. Shallow graves for shallow hearts, for fall-aparts and pick-me-ups. You should review. It makes me feel special. *sparkles***

**(Ohhey does that mean there was a different lovely anonymous reviewer for _war, baby_ who is a huge fan of _30 Seconds To Mars_? My bad, XxTheAngstyOnesxX. I thought it was you. I love you anyways. xD**

**Oh and this story is immortal. It will nevah evah end. Wherever did you get that cuh-razypants idea from?)**

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><p><em>xii. shallow graves<em>

I know they say shallow hearts deserve shallow graves, but if it were up to me, you'd be drowning in the deepest ocean. No, don't you look at me like that. Don't you dare think I'm a superficial bitch who cares only about her looks. It's the truth, yes, but so are you. So don't go around acting like you're better than me. Because when it comes down to it, you're more shallow than me, and that's saying something. Because I'd move on. You, stubborn, silly bitch that you are, refuse to. There's more to me than him, and you know that. But who are you without him? No, don't pretend you're smart and funny. Because you aren't. You don't do anything, you just pretend.

So ask me who the shallower one is. I've got the answer. Ask yourself, and you'll find yourself at a loss for words. Because reflections never answer, honey. But don't look too close, or you'll fall into the water.

And I won't help you out.


	13. payback

**I will be gone, probably, for around three weeks. Going out of the country. Abundance of relations. Probably no time. So I leave you with half a drabble and a million air kisses till then.**

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><p><em>xiii. payback<em>

Karma's a bitch and payback is a motherfucker. What are you? You're not an abstract idea of getting what you deserve, you're human. Technically, at least. Because you're a bitch, and a motherfucker, but you aren't karma and you aren't payback.

Oh wait, that's right. You're _Drew_.


	14. spellcheck

**So I am returned but exams are next week and Parents are being Parental about them. So yanno. Limited updates maybe. (Guess what? I just finished reading Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony and am freaking. So bad.) But hey. Can you spell r-e-v-i-e-w? *smiles encouragingly***

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><p><em>xiv. spell-check<em>

So, I know you're beautiful. And perfect. And that you're a daughter of Aphrodite, so you definitely know how to spell m-a-s-c-a-r-a. But can you spell b-a-c-k-s-t-a-b-b-e-r?

No? How about d-a-d-d-y-i-s-s-u-e-s? Is that one too hard? Here's one, try m-o-m-m-y-p-r-o-b-l-e-m-s. Too long? Here's one I'm sure you can spell: s-u-p-e-r-i-o-r-i-t-y-c-o-m-p-l-e-x - or is that too complex? How about c-o-n-d-e-s-c-e-n-d-i-n-g?

Are these getting too _long_, too _hard_, too _truthful_? Here's one, short and simple and _not-so-_sweet: b-i-t-c-h.


	15. harmful side effects

**So Baby Brother said his first word that I am willing to acknowledge as a word (because mama and baba are terms of endearment, really): up. I am glowing with pride.**

**_The Twins From Mordor_: Thanks! But I feel I should make myself clearer. I love Drew. She is my baby. This whole collection is one big love letter to her with a postscript of Piper-hate. But she is a bitch but also a queen and a girl and maybe a sister, even, and someone who hates strawberry lipgloss and happens to be a worldclassbitch and knows it. But anyways, this one is yours. And also maybe the next few ones as well. Because I am forecasting a wave of updates today. As it is sunday and Parents are not home.**

**XxTheAngstyOnesxX: Thanks so much! But I thought nineteen days passed already. Where is your account, oh lovely angsty child of mine? (Oh, and you don't have to call me by my full name. You can just call me rain.)**

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><p><em>xv. harmful side-effects <em>

Clang slash blinding sounds of the war around her and people are dying. Muscles flexing and tendons springing and reflexes reacting and maybe she should have paid more attention during sword-fighting. Toned, tanned legs are no use against a monster, she soon realizes and wishes she'd learned martial arts instead of forsaking karate as stereotypical asian chick stuff. But she has deadly aim from years of eyeliner and killer hand-eye coordination and is armed with toxic-to-monsters makeup and the monster soon goes down under a siege of hairspray that stings like Hades and mascara wands that blind.

When they talk about the Titan war, they'll talk about incredible sword fights and unconventional attack methods. For her part, she sprays a ton of Givenchy.


	16. meet the eye

**It seems my update prediction will hold partially true. It is just that I have had to bottle in all the Drew for weeks now. And that is not healthy.**

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><p><em>xvi. meet the eye<em>

there is more to a girl than meets the e.y.e

and the eye will, of course, be coated with mascara

and pink eyeliner that points away from the truth

and eye shadow that shadows the past and masks the present

and you should never judge a book by its cover

but you can definitely judge a girl by her ability to use foundation

because if she can't mask the imperfections of her skin,

how is she supposed to pretend she's perfect through-and-through?

and it's the inner beauty that matters most

but the outer beauty is p.r.e.t.t.y important, too

and of course there is more to a girl than who she pretends to be

but what if there isn't?

what if she's exactly who she is,

and that her is flaw-full and moody and not very _nice-nice-sugar-and-spice_?

what if, my darling, what if I am just a bitch?

what if there is nothing more to me than a social-ladder-climbing backstabber?

what if my biggest fear is real?

and what if you never reassure me, what if you never say

_nonono, darling, of course you are not just a bitch_

_of course you are actually deep-down-nice_

but you can't answer me, darling

because you are my reflection and reflections never answer


	17. judgement withheld

**And this is an idea I've been toying with for a while. (And when it turns out to be true, I'll say I told you so. But in a nice way.)**

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><p><em>xvii. judgement withheld<em>

_/_

_Because we're in this together, you and me. _

And at the time, when you're seven and he's six, it doesn't matter that you have two different mommies. It doesn't matter that you are half-siblings and that he's a year younger than you and sort of a dweeb. Because you're in this together. You pinky swore.

\

_Because balance and beauty can go together. _

But this is a blatant lie, and you know that and he definitely knows that. But you pretend it's true and he pretends to believe you. Because he's got no choice - you are his big sister and he is your baby brother. And it doesn't matter if you are slipping towards beauty and he is desperately trying to steady his scale. Because you're in this together. You pinky swore.

/

_Because justice needs peace for it to work._

But neither of you have any faith in justice anymore, and you've both seen too much to believe in peace. So then he betrays you, or rather, you betray him. Because once you were brother and sister but now you are just the two sides of an imbalanced scale. And you're slipping off the edges and you realize that beauty can never be balance and justice can never be peace, but that won't change the fact that your last name is Nakamura and the only person you've ever betrayed besides yourself is your brother and he died because you didn't.

\

_Because, maybe, balance doesn't exist but it likes to pretend it does._


	18. bluegreenred

**So I read Matched and my favourite part was when she stepped on the lost tablets and was all, "Bluegreenred." _Of course_ that would be the only thing I approved of in the whole book. _Of course_ I would do this the day before two finals. _Of course. _**

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><p><em>xviii. bluegreenred<em>

sometimes, she feels blue

sadmadbad, like she's floating away

but that doesn't make sense,

because she's not floating,

she's anchored safeandsteady.

and sometimes, she feels green

poisonous and brandnew

but that doesn't make sense,

because words can't _possibly_ be poisonous

and she's been here too long to be brandnew.

but sometimes, she feels red

raging and cursing and raving

but that doesn't make sense,

because the bluegreen world doesn't have any room for red

so she pretends to be shiny white and clean

and perfect.


	19. sugarplum princess

**Because I am trying to reread TLH, but it is raping my soul BECAUSE DER YOU ARE A ROMAN YOU DUMBASS and Piper issues. But mainly I am doing it for Drew. Did you know she smells like Christmas?**

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><p><em>xix. sugarplum princess<em>

She loves the smell of Christmas. It smells like pine and nutmeg and happy. Or at least, it used to smell like that. Now, it just smells like Givenchy. But before, when daddy was still daddy and Ethan was still her brother and Maria was just daddy's secretary, not her stepmom, Christmas used to smell like Christmas.

_Ethan, can you set the table?_

_Drew, are the presents ready?_

_Ethan, did you make the beds?_

_Drew, can you light the candles?_

_Ethan, have you put up the wreaths?_

_Drew, honey, can you get the door? Maria said she'd be stopping over._

Back when Christmas was Christmas, and not the Maria-and-daddy-pretend-they-are-not-having-sex-show, she used to love the smell of Christmas. She used to wish she could bottle it and use it as perfume.

She doesn't wish that anymore.


	20. return to sender

**So this one is the reason I even wrote Invisible, but then I forgot to include it. When I remembered, it was me with a toothbrush in my mouth doing dramatic chest heaves. And here we are, an hour from my last exam. xD**

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><p><em>xx. return to sender<em>

She has a vanity table.

On that vanity table, in front of the mirror that tells the truth and coats it in lies, beside the foundation that hides her fears and underneath the face creams that moisturize and suffocate her, there is an envelope.

Inside of that envelope, there is a letter. Not paper, but thick, white, cream-coloured card, with an apology written in unsympathetic calligraphy._ I'm sorry I can't be better._ Also inside of that envelope, with the letter, is a tube of bright pink mascara.


	21. thinthinthin

**So at the end of TLH, when they are like, teleported back to camp and Piper is standing on Drew's pizza, I was all GASP. Because Drew's PIZZA. What typical mean bitch-queen eats _pizza_? And also how dare she defile such a beautiful creation with her feet. Like seriously. You can take her crown and her friends but you cannot ruin her pizza. That is too much. **

**(OhIforgot, thanks so much to _The Twins From Mordor_. I finally understand your name(s). Because I finally watched LOTR. Just Fellowship. But it's a start.)**

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><p><em>xxi. thinthinthin<em>

She thinks she should get thinner.

Because thinner is hotter is prettier is more popular. So she thinks she should start dieting. And so she does.

And she's strong about it too. No more late night hot-chocolate-and-gossip fests, no more popcorn during chick flick marathons. When Mitchel breaks up with his first girlfriend, she doesn't even cheat with all of the boxes of chocolate they have stocked as comfort food (because no one does _just-broke-up_ like the Aphrodite cabin).

But then, one day, she goes out shopping with the rest of the cabin. A full day of long, hard shopping, getting the best deals and scoring the cutest dress _ever_, and she's so hungry. "Do you want to get pizza?" someone asks. And she's about to refuse but then they're standing in front of the parlor and it's the smell of sweet, _sweet_, greasy, melty cheese-and-tomato-and-dough-and-pineapple-and-_bliss_ and she melts like mozzarella.

Who needs to be skinny, she thinks. There's nothing more beautiful than her and pizza, and this is the one relationship she has faith in.


	22. colour coded, vday

**So it is exactly one week to Valentine's Day. In celebration and such, I'll be posting up Drew-pairing drabbles/freeverses/whatever. Today: unrequited Drew/Percy.**

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><p><em>xxii. colour-coded (v-day)<em>

Wouldn't we be beautiful together?

Oh, we would be. So beautiful. So shiny. So _perfect_. Because you are perfect, and with you, I'd be perfect too. Oh, but we'd be fragile. Vulnerable. Gorgeous. Stunning. We'd be the wings of a butterfly.

Together, we could fly.

Oh, but I'm not perfect and you are. And you don't want imperfection or ugliness. You want, you _need_ beautiful.

I'd wear green to match your eyes. (But you'll never give me the chance.)


	23. blind spot, vday

**Shortshortshort Drew/Apollo. I really like this pairing. It fits with my love of Drew/Everyone under the sun. And the sun itself. (EDIT: Whoops. Forgot to mention I took the periods out of my pm. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW, FF-dot-NET?)**

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><p><em>xxiii. blind spot<em>

So bright.

It hurts to look at him. He's blinding you but you can't tear your eyes away from him. Burning, flaming, blinding, beautiful. He grins at you, cocky, arrogant, and asks if you like what you're seeing.

You do.

He pulls you closer and it hurts.

But you can't tear yourself away.

So you stay and let yourself get burnt.


	24. parking lot love story, vday

**So I was wondering if I should publish this separately but then I was like, NAH. Drew/Octavian. For ****Daughter of Hypnos****.**** Gah, this pairing. So much to explore. This is going on MY LIST.**

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><p><em>xxiv. parking lot love story<em>

A black car pulls into the parking lot outside the camp. A black car with tinted windows, and _no_, it is not trying to park in _her_ parking space. It wouldn't dare.

Oh, but it is.

Well, she isn't going to stand for it. No. So she presses down on her brakes, hard, and Blush shoots forward. She hits the side of the car, red meets black, and leaves a dent. A good one. The car goes backwards in surprise and she squeezes Blush into her rightful place. She gets her bags (Gucci) out of the back, while the black car's front door opens and a lanky blond guy steps out. He's outraged. "What the hell?"

He's roman. They've been crawling around the place. Like tourists. "Do you even know who I am?" he demands, waving his arms wildly. "You dented her!"

She puts on her sunglasses, nonchalant, gorgeous, and says, "I don't care who you are. You could be the praetor or whoever, and you could still not park in my space. Got that?"

She's not charmspeaking. But maybe she should be, because Blondhair decides to argue. "You dented her! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Drew, darling. I'm Drew."

And she swings her bag over her shoulder and struts (yes, she struts) away.

She can hear him spluttering all the way to her cabin.

/

Blondhair isn't the praetor. But he's pretty close.

And guess what? She still doesn't care.

/

She's unpacking her stuff, random messy piles of designer shoes on her bed and clothes strewn across the floor of the cabin. This is the cabin that Blondhair walks into on his "Official Tour". He's led by Chiron. He looks tired. Blondhair looks smug. Chiron makes small talk about her father's wedding and she answers small answers. Blondhair looks around, amused, and she casually tosses some of her bras onto her bunk.

He clears his throat as if that would hide his tomato red blush. Tomatohead.

Chiron pulls him out and she waves them off with a dangerously pointed pump in her hand.

/

But then things go wrong at the meeting and he storms out. Whispers during dinnertime of war between the camps.

She dreams of driving away.

/

She's with Blush, driving aimlessly. Highway, highway, deer, swerve, highway again. Her red nails hold the steering wheel lazily and Blush is purring. She's almost happy, just driving, but then Blush's headlights show something that is not deer, not highway. Human. Blondhair.

She pulls over beside him, walking aimlessly, and tells him to get in before he gets eaten or mutilated.

/

They stop at McDonald's and he stuffs his face with a Big Mac. She's eating fries and washing them down with coffee. They don't talk but she doesn't really want to say anything, anyway. Not to him, not to anyone.

The next day, they don't say anything either. The meetings go better. No one storms out. Blondhair isn't there when she's driving. She doesn't care.

/

But then he's there again, passenger seat passenger. She drives in silence, the radio plays some pop song about love songs and he says, so quietly she's not sure she heard anything, that he's tired.

She says that nothing is as tiring as wedding preparations.

He says that he's scared.

She says that nothing could be as scary as her bridesmaids dress.

He laughs.

/

He's not there the next day.

/

Or the next day.

/

The meetings turn out good-great-awesome-of-course-there-will-be-peace and the romans are going to leave. She decides she's had enough of everyone and decides to leave too. She packs only the essentials: water, chocolate and her favourite pair of shoes. In the end, she fills three (designer) duffel bags. It's okay. They'll fit in Blush.

Two days before the romans are supposed to leave, she's gone. Out. Disappeared.

She wonders if they'll wonder where she's gone. She wonders if they'll care.

/

Gods, the open highway feels so good. She's going so fast she's almost flying and she's never felt so _alive_. There are no other cars, not here, and she's going wherever she wants. Anything to see nothing but open road.

But then she's not alone. Black car with tinted windows rolled down and Blondhair sticks his head out. "What's her name?" He yells over the wind.

"Blush. What's hers?"

"Destiny."

"Well, damn. I dented Destiny." She smiles, even though the wind is so sharp it hurts her face. "How original."

"Blush is cliche."

"_What_? Blush is beautiful and you know it."

"Fries and coffee?"

"Anytime."


	25. wine and chocolate, vday

**FF. I can't believe how sucky you are being. I had to go on Internet Explorer to get here. It's so beautiful to be back. Sigh. Anyway, ****Drew/Dionysus. Don't even ask. I love this pairing like the crackhead I am. Dionysus POV.**

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><p><em>xxv. wine and chocolate, vday<em>

you roll your eyes

away from me, away from my sneers

you pretend you don't see

you pretend that you don't know what's happening

but you do

and you keep coming back

for one more glass,

one more forbidden drink

all my snide comments don't make a difference

to the fact that you are holding stars

swallowing them

swallowing poor, forbidden us

you don't believe in love, but you pretend to

I've lived too long to believe

but the stars, the intoxicating stars

they refuse to let us be,

poor, alcoholic us

you smile, charming, sarcastic

but the glass in your hand shakes

as you keep coming back

to poor, dysfunctional us

(oh, but it's okay.

nothing says I love you like wine and chocolate.)


	26. oil stains, vday

**Drew/Leo for xLittle Black Star. I hate laptop keyboards, do you guys have any pairing requests, FF has mood swings, etc, etc.**

* * *

><p><em>xxvi. oil stains, vday<em>

She's shiny perfect, a new invention, a wonder of today's technology. She's made of plastic, she's flawless, she will never last.

He's old and rusty, hardy, loyal. He's a relic, an antique. He'll be collected, cleaned and looked after with care and eventually, he'll fall back into disrepair.

She's perfect and he's rusty, but either way, they'll both end up in attics, memories in yearbooks, machines that have broken down.

But for now, when they're both still working, when they both have enough energy to fix each other, he teaches her to sharpen a sword and she doesn't mind that he leaves motor oil stains on her clothes.


	27. glitterlove, vday

**Drew/Connor. For The Firefly Meteor Shower and starlit wishes. **

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><p><em>xxvii. glitterlove, vday<em>

It starts with a prank.

A bucket of glitter, poised over the door of cabin 10. It's risky, he knows. Angering the Aphrodite cabin could have disastrous consequences and any chances of a date for the fireworks would be gone, just like _that_. But he has to risk it because they were the cabin chosen from the pranking sock and he was the one chosen to do the pranking, and he figures that glitter is a fairly safe prank.

Because what Aphrodite child wouldn't want to be bathed in glitter?

So he hooks it up. And then waits for the next unsuspecting person to walk out.

The door opens, the glitter falls, someone swears and then it's just brown eyes, black hair, pink glitter and red lips forming curses that he's never heard before.

He falls in love that day.

And she walks around sparkling. (She doesn't really mind.)


	28. rolling stones, vday

**Drew/Nico, as requested by Daughter of Oceanus. My personal favourite Drew pairing as of right now. For the song Jello Cup by Candy Coated Killahz. Been listening to their album nonstoppish. **

* * *

><p><em>xxviii. rolling stones, vday<em>

We both have secret identities. Alter egos. By day, you are dark-and-depressed, I'm glamour girl. By night, we are monsters, we are crazy, we are rolling stones.

We are beautiful.

Night is when we work, saving ourselves from the world. We sneak out of our skins and into the ghost towns of amusement parks. You bring the rides to life and I thank myself for wearing sneakers, not heels.

We spend the night on the roller coasters, twisting, turning, laughing, until we forget that morning has to come.

But it does, and we have to slip back into who we used to be.

But the sun doesn't stay forever, and when it leaves, we come back.


	29. wicked prince queen charming, vday

**Got my hershey kisses and twinkies. Life is good. Happy valentine's day, lovelies. To celebrate, I give you Drew/Jason as requested by basically everyone. And air kisses, because let's be fabulous on valentine's. *mwah***

**(Oh, I keep forgetting. References to Enchanted the movie and the book The Mysterious Benedict Society.)**

* * *

><p><em>xxix. wicked prince queen charming, valentine's special<em>

_._

once upon a time, there was a girl

she was kind and beautiful and ohsosweet

she was frail and brave and gorgeous

but she wasn't me.

.

once upon a time, there was a boy

who tried soso hard to be exactly who

they wanted him to be

but then he woke up one morning

and wondered what he was fighting for.

.

they spoonfed me sparkly little stories

of dazzling crowns and dramatic dragons and wickedwicked queens

they promised me pretty little lies, they said

that everyone would love me, love me, love me,

as long as I was perfect

and I believed them.

I did, I do.

.

he worked so hard, so much

he did all the right things, all the right words, all the right people

he tried tried tried sososo hard,

clutchingclawing at that elusive wonderland you promised him

but you're no angel, darling

and neither am I.

.

oh, but you were at first

pretty little princess, apple of his eye

poison apple, poison worms

you were perfect, fragile, beautiful

angelic little demon, weren't you?

he was blinded (in love), but he didn't know whether you were

rapunzel or gothel, whether you lured him into the tower

and pushed him into the thorns

but he was blinded (in pursuit of perfection)

and deafened as well, deaf to the sound of your cacklinglaughter

up in that ivory tower.

.

and me?

that _wickedwicked_ evil queen, shielding her kingdom

from the sweet, perfect princess

I tried to feed you a poisoned apple,

poison apple, poison worms

but you were too smart, too smart for me, my darling little princess

and _oh!_ just like that,

you toppled me off my throne.

.

what happens when the prince in shining armour falls off of his horse?

what happens when the evilwicked queen is thrown out of her empire?

.

maybe they'll meet again in a library, once foes, now tiredlittlescholars

maybe they'll bond over hurt and comfort and fairy tales

maybe I'll realize that I don't need to, want to, be little miss damselindistress

and maybe he'll realize that princecharming is sort of a loser, anyway

and maybe we'll leave the children's section

and split money for some popcorn and a conspiracy theory movie.

.

eventually you'll think that you've won

you'll live happily ever after because the wicked narcissistic queen has been vanquished

and let's face it, prince charming should have been better

but then we'll show up

tattered finery, tarnished armour

and is that? _could that possibly be_?

a pile of fairytale stories in our arms.

.

are you wondering what will happen next?

are you at the edge of your seat,

wondering whether the evil queen will renounce her ways?

whether prince-couldhavebeenmorecharming will come back,

shinier and better than ever?

sorry, darling

you'll have to make up your own ending.


	30. only the innocent fall

**- AnonymousE, who requested Drew-Silena closure and left a lovely review.**

**- Lynn and Erin, who are redheads and are redhead supremacists like me, only I am just a _spiritual_ redhead. But they also leave lovely reviews and Erin can do _so_ much better than whatshisfaceJAY.**

**- The song White Wedding and rockband. You get the picture. Lyrics from refrain in brackets and bolded.**

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><p><em>xxx. only the innocent fall<em>

**[hey little sister, what have you done?]**

She tosses a bottle of hairspray at you and you catch it. She breaks down one day and sobs because no, they were meant to be, he was her one true love and how could he? and you pick up the pieces and glue them back together, one by one.

She asks you to catch her if she falls and you promise you will.

**[hey little sister, who's the only one?]**

She gets gigglier and smilier and redlipsticky. You fade into the watercoloured background while she lights up the world, bold glossy fabulous. But she still smiles at you and you still pick up her pieces - there are just less of them.

**[hey little sister, shotgun]**

A scythe bracelet on her wrist, pale and delicate. A malicious edge to her smirk and you know what, maybe you won't be the one to glue her back together when he's done with her.

**[it's a nice day to start again]**

Oh, and then you get smilier and glossier. You puncture a hole in her pictureperfect world and the cracks start showing. But what doesn't kill her can only make you stronger and shinier.

You both have matching bracelets, isn't that cute?

**[it's a nice day]**

Hot pink electric spear and she goes up in honour. You stand at the back and pretend you aren't breaking, broken. Why is she pink? She should be white, white innocent, white delicate, white young, white liar, white deceiving, white cloaking, white broken.

She shouldn't have left so many pieces behind.

**[for a white wedding]**


	31. dollface, not real

**- Bleh. Forced motivation. You can thank Gabbe aka The Firefly Meteor Shower for the update, though it was probably not as soon as she wanted. Hmph.  
><strong>**- Oh, plus. Lynn, Erin. What is your account name because I want to read your stuff.  
>- Pinocchio.<strong>

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><p><em>xxxi. dollface<em>

girls with mothers, the real ones  
>mothers who bake pies and attend soccer games and nag and are around too much<br>or mothers who are never there and make do with pretend post-its  
>and <em>I'm sorry I won't make it honeys<br>_girls with mothers, real mothers,  
>they get dolls<br>dolls and cooking sets and princess dresses,  
>but really, what they get are porcelain dolls<br>**fancy dresses and** **elaborate curls  
><strong>porcelain dolls who are never allowed out of their boxes because  
>they might be broken.<p>

girls with real mothers have dusty dolls  
>that <strong>are<strong> never allowed of their boxes  
>these dusty dolls stare through their cellophane wrapped worlds<br>with blank eyes and blank faces and a longing  
>to be real.<p>

real girls with real mothers have dolls that are never played with  
>for fear they might be broken.<p>

some dolls are handmade broken  
>they stare at the world they will <strong>never<strong> be allowed to be a part of  
>and they nurse their tarnished skin and bruised dreams<br>they long and long, they wish away their perfect ivory skin and their safe boxes  
>to be real girls.<p>

but see, what these dolls don't realize is  
>that sometimes the real girls with real mothers<br>are broken too.  
>and sometimes, the real girls with real mothers<br>don't have mothers  
>and they're broken<br>and they aren't even **real**.

but we're talking about dolls.  
>right?<p> 


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